


No, Thanks; I'm Fine!

by Nerdymum



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdymum/pseuds/Nerdymum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unlikely friendship begins to bloom between Feron and the information drone known as Glyph.  This piece of literature is a one-shot and will not be continued with further material.  Beta'd by barbexy on dA.  All recognizable names, places, and species are sole property of BioWare</p>
            </blockquote>





	No, Thanks; I'm Fine!

No, Thanks, I’m Fine

By: Nerdymum

That damn drone; it hadn’t stopped bothering him since she secured the alarm system. He tolerated the few remaining guards and agents on the large ship flying above Hagalaz, welcomed any sort of reprieve she gave him when she visited from time to time, but the drone grated on what few normal nerves he had left. It followed him around like a lost varren pup, nearly tripping him on several occasions. It consistently asked if he needed assistance, provided bits of useless information, and, for some unknown and ridiculous reason, referred to him as the Shadow Broker.

By the gods, he hated that confounded little idiot.

It called itself Glyph, while his name for it was any crude derogatory term he could come up with. As many times as he tried to hack into the interface to change any sort of program to keep it from calling him Shadow Broker none of his attempts, no matter how many times he had been shocked from crossed wires, ever worked. He had done just about everything he could do to get it to go away from sending it on impossible missions for nonexistent information to insulting it to even reverting to his own primal base reactions such as frill flaring and hissing. The drone was immune to the drell’s threats.

He even went as far as to declare himself mentally unstable and likely to “kill” its programming if it didn’t leave him alone.

“Detecting only a faint amount of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder which can be treated in a variety of ways. I can set you up an appointment with a psychiatrist who specializes in drell mental health, Shadow Broker,” the little white drone chirped happily.

Muttering to himself, he skulked out of the monitoring room and into his small cabin to brood and throw darts at holos of Aria T’Loak. It was only a few hours later, when he fell into a weak and troubled sleep, that she came to visit him. She brought him a small meal and a drink of water along with a few kind words and a smile. Though not completely famished, he did manage to nibble a small bit to appease her. 

Her sweet demeanor continued to surprise him. After tricking her several times during their mission to locate Commander Shepard’s body she still came looking for him. She had kept her promise. There had been many in his existence who lived their lives by that rule, and those who did weren’t people he tried to get involved with. It was an occupational hazard, after all, when one dealt with trafficking information from one source to another to deal with people of questionable repute. He even considered himself one of those types at one point.

Her honesty and steadfast resolve kept him humble and in-debted to her.

He opened his mouth to offer her a heart-felt thanks for the food and drink when the bright white light of the drone glowed behind his door.

“I have located a suitable physician for your specific needs, Shadow Broker,” its electronically enhanced voice reported cheerfully.

She glanced over at her friend whose smile suddenly transformed into a grimace of chagrin.

“Why didn’t you tell me you need a doctor?” she asked with concern. Her cerulean-shaded hand gently touched his fingers, causing him to twitch slightly.

He sighed wearily and sat forward on his bed with slumped shoulders.

“I don’t need a doctor. I-I told it that I am insane, thinking it would leave me in peace. Apparently, I made a mistake.”

She laughed quietly and patted his arm. Her touch resonated warmly through his shirt and down his arm. He felt his throat flush and puff pleasantly. For the briefest second he considered leaning in and kissing her. But he saw what happened to the last guy who tried that. He wasn’t sure if the batarian survived the biotic throw. 

“I need to go check my messages,” she broke the moment of silence and stood up. “Get some rest.”

The door opened as she exited his quarters, briefly revealing Glyph waiting just outside like some kind of miserable little sentry. A dissatisfied hiss exited his nose as he flopped back down on his bunk.

“Will you be needing my services any more this evening, Shadow Broker?”

His brow plates lowered over his narrowed eyes and the sneer on his lips bared his long white canines.

“No! Now, go away!” he growled. There was silence but the presence of the drone remained just outside his door.

Days went by and he tried to ignore Glyph. He refused to respond to any questions it asked and even swatted it away on a few occasions. He wasn’t sure if drones had any sort of emotion-based programs. He doubted it very much after seeing many combat drones in his travels but none of them were as irritating as this little “secretary”. And if it did emote he really didn’t care.

She had to leave one evening to meet up with a few important influences on behalf of ending Commander Shepard’s incarceration. He told her to stay safe and promised to keep the ship running on one hundred percent efficiency while she was away. He sat in the control monitoring room, playing a few rounds of Surkeshian Solitaire to pass the time when he fell into a memory.

He was once again strapped into the uncomfortable interrogation chair, head held fast by a set of braces and his eyes forced open by speculums. The light shining above was blinding and made his head ache. A thin shadow hovering at his left moved quickly towards him, showing him a very thin, long needle. His gut clenched and a low, frightened whine escaped his puffed throat.

“Shit, shit, no! Please, don’t do this,” he pleaded weakly.

“You can make all the noises and curses you wish, but you should’ve know that this would’ve happened,” the demonic voice of the Broker echoed over the speakers. “Let this be a lesson to anyone who dares to cross me.”

Realizing that he had an audience to watch whatever atrocities the Broker ordered to be done, he fought feebly against the restraints of the chair. But it didn’t stop the torturer from slowly drawing the needle into the corner of his eye. He screamed until his voice failed…

He flung himself out of the desk chair, punching at anything in his face or on the desks before dropping to the floor. Curling into a tight ball, he sobbed brokenly and begged for the memory to leave. In the dark of the room he saw the pale light of the drone float in his peripheral vision. Of all the things to encounter after the traumatic memory lapse he had to deal with the fool. He bared his teeth and growled with warning.

“What in the Abyss are you doing here?!”

The drone bobbed slightly, its rotating interface slowed significantly much to his surprise. Was it actually, dare he think it, sad?

“I came to your assistance, sir. You sounded as though you were in extreme pain. Should I alert the on-staff medic for your needs?”

He tried to gather his breath, feeling the sharp pains of his gasps pinching his sides. Slowly, he stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes, and turned back around to regard the small bit of destruction his fit caused. A few monitors would need replaced as well as some console projectors but there was nothing irreplaceable or of any immense worth. He bent down to pick up the fallen cards and held them tight in his hands, feeling oddly embarrassed that the drone caught him in such a vulnerable state.

“No, Glyph. I’m alright.”

The drone floated closer and remained near the drell while he cleaned up his mess.

With the help of a few guards and tech assistants the base remained in perfect working order. He didn’t have much to do, other than stare at the dark metal walls and pace the hallways. He received several messages from her about the progress of Shepard’s case and anything else she thought would be of interest to him. 

One evening, after he couldn’t sleep no matter what he did, he walked into one of the few observatories and stood before the wide window that revealed the planet below. The small, constantly warmed surface shimmered like a mirage in his sight. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he missed her. She was his only true friend. The acquaintances and business prospects of his past probably didn’t know he was still alive and most likely didn’t care. But she did. She worried about him. And he worried for her.

“Your sleep patterns have been derailed, sir. I can search the extranet for methods suggested by professionals to regain your rest,” Glyph’s artificial tone tunneled through his ears. He opened his mouth to tell it to throw itself out of the ship but, oddly enough, couldn’t bring himself to say such cold words. He turned around, watched the drone’s holographic body twist and spin, and smiled weakly.

“No, thanks. I’ll be alright.”

A satisfied chirp beeped from his company and remained silent as he continued to stare down at Hagalaz.

It came to his attention, about a week after her leave, that the occupational hazard of being second in command to the Shadow Broker was boredom. There were only so many times one could check upon the monitoring status before realizing that nothing was going to change without being notified by the appointed staff. Entertainment was also somewhat lacking. He wasn’t a fan of many popular shows on the holoscreen and reading only enhanced his memory banks to open up recently healed wounds. He considered asking someone to join him in a strategy game but he either didn’t like the looks some gave him or knew that his victory would happen early on.

He sat in his room and stared at the holographic game board, pulling on his bottom lip absently as he kept going through any possible player onboard the ship. The pale light of the drone lit up the darker corners as it entered.

“I have received another update for you to read. Shall I send it to your omni-tool or dictate it for you now, sir?”

He rubbed his chin and pondered the immediate thought that came into the front of his mind. 

“Omni-tool,” he replied. “I’ll read it later. Do you know anything about Earthen chess?”

“I can show you a collection of records on the game, organizing them into any order you wish.”

He shook his head and stared back down at the glowing orange board, flicking over one of his Rooks. It dropped down to its side and flickered briefly.

“Can you play?”

The drone bobbed a few times, chirping and beeping, as though it were contemplating. He looked back up at it in curiosity and snickered. It wasn’t possible that it was “thinking”. It was a VI, a floating databank, certainly not self-aware. So, why did it act as though it were alive? And why did he even care?

“I can link myself through the game’s program and act as a second player, moving the pieces in the same way you would. I can also access a variety of strategies to meet your method of game play,” it answered.

Intrigued, he nodded and allowed the drone to play. It ended up being the most challenging and most interesting game of chess he ever played.

She returned just in time. The terrorist group known as Cerberus had located the ship and were hunting them down. She grabbed him, the small crew, and Glyph and escaped in a small shuttle. Using a remote system, with the drone’s assistance, she piloted the old ship into the side of the cruiser and gained a little time to plan their next move. They settled in one of the smaller bases in the Terminus system, setting up a new base of operations which she gave to him to see over.

He was humbled by her offer and also saddened to see her leave for the Normandy to help Shepard. Even more surprising to him was the fact that when she said she was taking Glyph with her he started to feel a bit disheartened. She promised to keep him updated on every front. He hugged her goodbye and went to throw in the last few programs he had been developing to install into Glyph’s database.

The little drone hovered still and spun slowly as he transferred the files to the updated omni-tool for her use. 

“I guess this is farewell, Glyph,” he smiled and approached the interface. “I want you to take care of Liara, if you can. Don’t let her work too hard and make sure she gets enough rest.”

There was a short pause before the drone answered.

“I’ll make sure that the Shadow Broker is notified of necessary breaks.”

He nodded and stared down at the note he had wrote to Shepard in regards to the drone. Sighing, he closed the program and looked back up at the “little idiot” whom he had somehow started to see as a sort of pseudo-friend.

“Maybe we’ll try playing another game of chess one of these days,” he muttered and cleared his throat of the sudden tightness.

Glyph bobbed in agreement, the holographic light dimming slightly.

“Is there anything I can assist you with before my leave, Feron?” it asked in a soft tone.

The drell smiled and shook his head.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”


End file.
